So We'll Go No More a-Roving -- George Gordon, Lord Byron

(Poem #62) So We'll Go No More a-Roving So we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul outwears the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon. -- George Gordon, Lord Byron

"Lord Byron is only great as a poet; as soon as he reflects, he is a
child." - Goethe.

I agree completely. Byron seems to be the distillation of all the
qualities which I dislike in the Romantic poets.

Having said that, I must add that this beautiful lyric is one of my
favourite vignettes. Again, it's a poem to which not much can be added
by way of commentary (funny, isn't it, how such poems tend to go
hand-in-hand with days on which I don't have time to write comments?)
Actually, I started writing some stuff, but I gave up because it wasn't
going too well, and also, to be frank, I don't like Byron enough to be
able to write about him. So I'll leave you with just the first line of
my (unfortunately) stillborn essay:

Written around the age of 30, after a tempestuous and highly
controversial youth, this shows Byron in a more pensive, melancholy
mood, far removed from his usual (somewhat wanton) sensuality.

That, I'm afraid, is all I wrote. Oh well, that's the way it crumbles,
cookiewise.

thomas.